The End of the Dream
by Kookie the Bard
Summary: (Spoilers!) The hunter comes to the end of his nightmarish journey. Gehrman lies dead, and the Moon Presence offers the hunter a new fate... One he cannot accept.


**The wind blew steadily through the field of flowers, the small necklace on the ground gone unnoticed until now.** The simple thing, shaped somewhat like the blade of its owner, lay just outside the reach of Gehrman's lifeless hand. It seemed that as he had fallen, dying, he had clutched it, ripped it from his neck, then dropped it among the lumenflowers.

The hunter took it in his own hand. He hadn't wanted it to end this way. He never intended to kill the man who had helped him and supported him on his journey. But when he refused to be released, to let the man kill him in this dream, it seemed that Gehrman couldn't accept that. He fought hard, harder than any human foe the hunter had faced throughout Yharnam. The hunter had tried to talk him out of it as they fought, to let him stay and figure out a way to bring them all into the waking world, but the old hunter would not listen. He kept saying that it was his duty, that he had to do this. It was clear that only one of them could survive. In the end, he fell, just like the others.

And the hunter did not feel the thrill of victory.

But had killing Gehrman been so bad? Gehrman had meant to free the hunter from the dream by ending his life. Had he done that for Gehrman by killing him now? The hunter knew all too well how Gehrman felt about being here. The hunter could go freely, even if he always returned, but Gehrman seemed... trapped. The hunter had heard the whispers, the desperate pleading while the old hunter slept. For Laurence, for Willem, to help him escape. And by ending his life, the hunter hoped he had accomplished just that.

"I'm sorry, my friend," he whispered. "Be free, now." He took the necklace and wrapped its severed cord around his neck, tying a simple knot in the back to keep it secure.

Footsteps behind him. He turned to see the doll approaching, her hand moving to her mouth in surprise when she saw Gehrman's body, prostrated on the ground and a pool of red glistening around his head. "Good hunter," she said softly, "Gerhman, is he... is he sleeping?"

The hunter took one more look at the old keeper of the dream. "No," he said. "I think he has just woken up."

The doll knelt in the flowers, and began to speak a soft prayer over Gehrman's body. The wind suddenly picked up, and the hunter looked into the sky. The moon, that ever present body in the sky, was red and hanging low. And something was descending in front of it...

The creature made contact with the ground, standing on all four of its limbs, which appeared both spindly and powerful at once. Its face was nothing more than a gaping hole, while tentacles protruded from its head and from the bottom of its torso like strange tails, and its chest appeared to be row upon row of wicked teeth. The hunter had seen many a horror on his quest to unravel the secrets of Yharnam, but this thing set a new bar. Yet despite its horrific appearance, he also felt oddly compelled by it. It strode toward him, with strangely graceful movements.

The doll rose, finally having noticed the thing coming toward them. "Hunter, what is—?" she began, but he stepped forward and thrust an arm out in front of her protectively.

"I don't know," he said, "but I intend to find out. Take Gehrman and go back to the workshop. Wait for me there." With a curt nod and another nervous look at the creature, the doll picked up Gehrman's body with surprising ease and made her way back to the steps of the dream, beyond the garden.

The hunter examined the creature as he approached it. Perhaps "creature" wasn't the right word, he realized. This thing emanated power. Something such as this could only be a Great One in the flesh...

The Great One suddenly reached for him, holding him almost gently in its enormous hands, and brought him close. The hunter tried to calm his now rapidly beating heart. What did this thing want? It hadn't attacked him, so perhaps it meant no harm... Yet he could not deny how vulnerable he felt in its powerful grip, only able to stare into its empty face and wonder what was to come.

Then it... embraced him. Its face made contact with the hunter's stomach area and he felt... a connection. Power flowed between them... as did knowledge.

 _This thing is the creator of the dream. It would have me take Gehrman's place, as the steward of the dream..._

But... no... This couldn't be how it ended! He had not come all this, fought every beast in Yharnam, other blood-crazed hunters, even the Great Ones themselves, just to end up stuck in this dream forever! Yet the power of this ascendant being compelled him to lower his guard, to serve...

 _No no no NO NO NO NO!_

His body gave off a strange explosion of power, and the creature dropped him, scampering back as though afraid of the hunter. Then it rose, and gave a low howl... or was it a groan?

The hunter gave a short laugh. "That's right, monster," he said, standing tall once more. "You held Gehrman in this sick dream for years. You will not hold me, nor any other hunter, to play your games again. No more!"

The Great One rushed the hunter, limbs reaching for him once more, though in a much more violent fashion. He quickly stepped back out of the way and drew his Holy Moonlight blade. As the thing's hand flew by, just out of range, he ran forward, initiated the full arcane power of his blade, and swung up. A blast of arcane magic flew from the greatsword's edge even as it tore at the creature's flesh. It leaped away, greenish-white blood falling from the wound.

The moon creature rushed him again, striking at him once more. They danced around the garden, trading blows. The savage Great One's strikes were a blur, catching the hunter several times and driving him backward, before it unleashed a burst of power that seemed to hit the hunter like a speeding carriage. He felt drained, weakened… But it was nothing some blood couldn't fix. He quickly drew two healing blood vials from the pocket of his coat and jabbed them into his leg. The familiar feeling of restoration flooded his body, heightening his awareness and healing his wounds in seconds.

He gripped his Moonlight blade tightly with both hands and swung with a yell, unleashing another blast of arcane magic toward the moon creature. The thing ran at him, taking the blow head on, never even slowing down. It lashed at him with its tail-tentacles. The hunter stepped out of the way of the first swipe but was caught by the next, the blow knocking him to the ground and the sword from his grasp.

The hunter lay on the ground, completely disoriented. When he regained his focus, he found that his sword was at least fifteen feet away. Too far to reach before his foe was upon him. He looked again to the creature, steadily advancing on him, prepared to deliver the final blow. He knew that if this thing ended him, he would not be waking up again.

Something gleamed to his right. He glanced at it, and found a curved blade lying but a few feet from where he lay. Just beside Gehrman's corpse.

His Burial Blade.

 _Still watching out for me..._

He reached out and grasped the blade's handle and swung it up in front of him even as the moon creature leapt.

 _For Gehrman!_

It came down on him… and onto the tip of the blade. It gave another deep moan, then went limp. It fell beside the hunter, who rose unsteadily. The blade was covered in the thing's blood, and he held it at the ready, just in case any life remained.

The defeated Great One seemed to deflate, like its very life was seeping out…

And into the hunter.

He could feel a change beginning. He felt power, knowledge, _cosmic_ _wisdom._ He was becoming something… more.

 _Something like the thing I just killed._

He knew somehow that this was true. It made an odd sort of sense. He supposed he had the potential for it. He had consumed the umbilical cords, after all, those mythically powerful fragments of the Great Ones' power, in an attempt to make himself even stronger.

Was this what he wanted, though? It had certainly been what some had desired. Was this not what Willem and the students of Byrgenwerth sought to achieve? To ascend to the level of the Great Ones?

But what good had the Great Ones ever done for humanity?

 _This thing imprisoned Gehrman. Rom became mindless and kept the truth of the world from everyone. And Oedon..._ He shuddered at the memory of Arianna and her hideously malformed child.

 _I will not become something like that. I don't know if I would stay me... And if I was powerful enough to resist becoming that thing's slave, then I can resist_ this _!_

Power continued to flow into him, but he tried to concentrate. He fell to his knees, staring at the corpse of the Great One whose power could be his own. The pull was immense. He couldn't seem to stop the essence from pouring out, always more and more...

The hunter screamed in his futile efforts to remain human, nearly collapsing from the mental struggle.

 _I... I can't fight this. Perhaps this is... my destiny... To become something beyond a mere human._

Hands grasped his shoulders. He looked up to see a familiar pale face. The doll looked in his eyes, then closed her own, and a new power coursed through him. A new and immense strength, a pure energy, though similar in nature to that of the Great One. The doll's strength became his own, and he redoubled his efforts, filled with renewed hope.

 _I will not let this happen,_ he determined, and screamed at the emptying corpse, "I will not be like you!"

The dream seemed to be tearing itself to shreds around him. The burning workshop in the distance was barely visible now. The moon turned a deep blood red, then seemed to disappear from sight altogether. _It was the Great One's power that held the dream together,_ he thought. _Without a master for that power, what will become of all of this?_

As the flow of energy stopped, he collapsed on the ground, still struggling to resist the changes within. The doll held tightly to him, never once letting her own energies cease, and the dream continued to become more and more indistinct.

Then as quickly as it began, it stopped. The urges to change within the hunter vanished. His eyes opened and saw the flowers below him, still shining brightly. He turned to look at the doll, breathing heavily. "Thank you," he breathed. "You saved me. I... I couldn't let myself become..."

"I know," she said, folding her hands neatly in her lap. "And I understand. Gehrman would have wanted it so."

The hunter nodded, and noticed his surroundings. The sky had gone completely black, and he could no longer see the workshop. The flowers of the garden were steadily wilting in a wave of death and shadow, seeming to converge on where he lay.

"Be free, good hunter," the doll whispered.

"Wait," he said, scrambling to his feet. "No! Not you too...!"

The flowers continued to wilt, growing closer every second.

The doll closed her eyes, and he thought he could see a shimmer in the corner of her eye. "May you find your worth in the waking wor—"

Even as he reached for her, she disappeared.

As did that terrible dream.

* * *

 **Author's Notes: Well, that was a fun little ficlet. Haven't written like this in awhile. Just sat down, worked out half an idea, and started writing. I know this really doesn't diverge much (or really at all) from the actual events of the game, but I wanted to explore how the hunter would feel about the loss of Gehrman, and killing the Moon Presence. I tried to get in his head, I suppose.** **I know it's nothing very fancy, but I still kind of like it.**

 **If you're feeling generous, consider leaving me a review? I always appreciate my reader's comments. Thanks so much for reading!**


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